Deleted Scenes
by forty-two dreams
Summary: Just some mindless angst. Spoilers for the second movie.


Will liked sleeping with his friends. Not in a gay way or anything: he literally liked the sleeping, or rather, the mystical window of time between the laying down of the head onto a pillow and the loss of consciousness. It seemed like there were certain things that could not be said at any other time.

He had been looking forward to this visit from his friends for a long time, essentially since the last time he had seen them, at Christmas. However, the event did not come without stress. All year long, Will, who normally prided himself on his formidable oratory skills, had been trying to find a way to casually articulate to his old mates the serious social difficulties he was facing. But somehow he'd found himself at a loss every time.

The keys stuck in the keyboard.

The syllables stuck in his throat.

Were there even words for this?

What a knob he'd sound, explaining his stupid, stupid, totally preventable misfortunes! He saw the faces in his nightmares, calling out that he was bent, that he was worthless, that a world filled with poverty and war and cancer and all the nobler struggles of life had no room for his first world problems. He wasn't entitled to friendship, and he wasn't allowed to beg it.

It was tempting, of course, to speak up. Deep down, he longed to confide in Simon, to seek the advice and comfort which had gotten him through so many impossible situations in the past. Both young men had a strong streak of honesty in their characters which made concealment out of place in their dealings, and more than once they had jeered scornfully at their friend Jay's ridiculous inventions.

But something had shifted in Will since then. He almost felt like he could understand the motivations behind Jay's constant falsehoods now, and he regretted not showing his friend more sympathy.

In primary school, Will had been mostly alone, but, nasty as his classmates had been, he hadn't known life could be any different. Plenty of children were bullied when they were young. Whereas absolutely nobody but Will Sodding Mackenzie was unhappy at uni. At least in junior school he had been able to escape to his home, to the uncool but stabilizing influence of his mother, but at university, home and school blended seamlessly into one precipitous snake pit, resounding at every hour of the day and night with the laughter and joy of conversations he didn't get to be part of.

It was a problem that fed itself. He had been in denial for the first term; perhaps these things took time, he had thought. But the longer his bitterness festered, the further he grew from his classmates, until it seemed every stranger in the world had been warned away from that posh nerd with the forced smile who sat alone in his room every night, strumming girly music on his guitar. He had been hoping the guitar would help him, but it was no use. No one wanted to be around you when you were unhappy, not when there were so many other people around to compete with. But he fancied, hoped, really, that he was making some progress with Mark and Em. After all, they'd actually gone out of their way to invite him to a party! Perhaps, with Neil and Simon here to help, he could finally fix this thing.

He just couldn't let them find out how bad things were. It was too mortifying. Simon had never experienced anything like this in his life; Will was sure. Why would he? Simon was a normal, easygoing person who had grown out of the adolescent insecurity that had bound him to his loser friends. In fact, he wasn't sure how he'd ever managed to be friends with Simon in the first place, but surely it would be all over if Simon figured out what a sad case he was.

The others had known, of course, that Will was unpopular before he met them. They hadn't talked of it openly or anything, as his group tended to communicate emotionally charged sentiments mostly with the eyes. Even so, their sympathy had warmed him. But now, he just wanted to spend what little time he got with Simon, Neil, and even Jay, simply being happy and enjoying their company. He could remember all the times he'd said nasty things to them and pretended he didn't know them. What a spoiled idiot he'd been.

A knock at the door had him leaping up. A voice cried, "All right, briefcase!" Will smiled for the first time in weeks.

Trying to act as normal as possible, Will received his guests.

"All right, Neil, Si. Had a good journey?"

"Horrible traffic," said Simon. "And then this arsehole started making rude gestures at the people behind us. We were lucky we weren't beaten to death with a tire iron."

"I had to do something to pass the time, didn't I? It's right boring driving with just you."

Simon shrugged. "So what's this about a cool party, Will?"

Neil said, "Can't be all that cool if they invited you."

Will tensed up. They didn't know, did they? How could they know?

But as they put on their silly costumes, he felt a bit more confidence flow through him. He wasn't Will tonight; he was Harry Potter! Harry Potter was famous, popular, a hero, and his two best mates always had his back. Tonight, they were magic.

And then it all went to shit.

Of course they knew. Even if they hadn't, they sure did after they'd had the door to the party slammed in their faces. It was almost nostalgic, really; they'd had so many such doors closed to them in college: Louise Graham's party, the sociology field trip party, the nightclub in London ... The only difference was, this time it was all Will's fault. It felt like there was another door now, between him and his friends.

Will led them down to the pub. Maybe it would be easier to brazen out his rejection if they all got drunk. But Simon wouldn't let him alone. All night, he goaded Will, trying to get him to admit he hadn't a friend in Bristol. Will wasn't sure why he was still bothering to lie about it; at this point, it was just stubbornness. Just about the only thing worse than being lonely was being made fun of for it. And whoever Pete was, Will wanted to drive knives through is face.

He got a bit of relief laughing at Jay's ridiculous tales, especially because Will and Simon both spoke fluent Jay and knew full well what he was really saying: he had no money, no mates, no girls, and he missed both them and his ex girlfriend terribly. Will rather perversely enjoyed knowing he wasn't alone.

Finally, they were headed back to his. Ten o'clock at night and Will was more than ready to go to bed. Then he saw the room. The totally unfunny, totally upside-down room.

He felt it only appropriate that the orientation of his room, much like the orientation of his life, was the exact opposite of what it should be.

"I fucking hate it here!" said Will.

Five words. So after all that, he hadn't needed the pages and pages of deleted e-mail drafts and rehearsed conversations playing through his head. Five words and he'd gotten the message out of him perfectly well. He'd forgotten how transparent he was.

Simon, having accomplished his mission, immediately stopped taking the piss. The conversation soon turned to pleasanter things, like the prospect of all four lads reuniting for a long holiday soon. Will smiled broadly; he couldn't see how this could possibly go wrong. It was like he'd said when they'd visited Jay at caravan club years ago: if Jay was telling the truth, they'd all have a brilliant time, and if he was lying, well, there'd be someone even sadder than him around. Either way, they'd all be together again. Will had missed that.

Soon, Simon, Neil, and Will settled into a nest of blankets and pillows in the middle of the empty floor. Will didn't have the heart to bother putting his room back just then, so he just lay down on the floor with his mates. Neil fell asleep right away, but Simon and Will lay awake for a bit.

Curled up with his hands under his cheek, Will whispered, "I am sorry for ruining your weekend, Si."

"Why didn't you tell me, mate?" Simon's words flew softly through the dark room as he leaned up on his elbow to look at his friend, the gentle reproach lost in waves of empathy.

Will rolled onto his stomach. "What, about my crippling social failures? I figured you knew."

And with that, Simon couldn't help but reach over and place a hand on Will's back. He wasn't sure what to say for a moment.

"It'll be okay, mate," he said after a pause. "We're going to have a great time in Australia, and when you get back everyone will think you're really cool, because you've been travelling and that, and you'll have girls all over you, and ... Don't worry about it, Will, really."

He was speaking very quietly into Will's ear, and something about his words made Will want to hide his face in the pillow. It was like his friend was rubbing a cool balm into his back. In the secret world the four of them had shared in college, spouting optimistic bullshit was the equivalent of saying 'I love you'. Will was afraid to move or speak and break the spell.

Finally he turned his head just a little to face Simon. He didn't say anything, but he smiled. He smiled as loudly as many people shout.

And then, in the most peaceful, intimate, and heterosexual way possible, Will slept.

With his friends.


End file.
